Take A Number
by AnnieM
Summary: A day in the life of a fanfic author.


  
Take a Number, (00/01) by AnnieM  
  
DISCLAIMER: To list each rightful owner here at the start will cause spoilers for the story content, so...please suffice to say that I did not create any of the characters contained therein; they belong to their respective creators, studios, networks, etc. The Author was created by her parents. ;-)  
  
Story Title: Take a Number  
Author: AnnieM  
Date Posted to ATS Creative: Aug '98  
Author's Notes: Goofy crossover fun.  
Synopsis: A day in the life of a fanfic author.  
  
Thanks to all,  
AnnieM   
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"When you live in a cookie-cutter world, being different is a sin.  
So you don't stand out. And you don't fit in. Weird."  
  
*************************  
  
Take a Number (01/01)  
by AnnieM  
  
  
  
A Summer Saturday  
6:00 AM  
  
  
*BZZZ*BZZZ*BZZZ*BZZZ*  
  
The Author awoke with a groan, blindly groping the air near her bedside for the source of the irritating sound...  
  
*THWAK*!  
  
She glanced at the now-silent clock, the glowing red numbers informing her of the ungodliness of the hour. Groaning again, she fell back onto the pillows.  
  
::"What in God's name was I thinking when I agreed to this?"::  
  
Commitment, however, had the best of her; she flung back the sheet, and crawled out of bed. Grabbing some clean clothes, she padded silently to the bathroom where a wakeful shower awaited.  
  
*****  
  
Downstairs in the Author's computer room/office, the Sliders were patiently waiting.  
  
Professor Arturo glanced at his watch. "She's late. That is *not* a very professional way to begin one's day."  
  
Wade shook her head as she took a sip from her coffee. "This is fanfic, Professor - people write it for fun, not work."  
  
"Not only that, if it weren't for the fanfic authors, you and Wade would be lost to us forever," added Quinn as he wrapped a protective arm around Wade's shoulders. She responded to him with a gentle kiss.  
  
Evil!Maggie rolled her eyes. "Get a room!" she sneered, prompting Good!Maggie to elbow the earlier version of herself in the ribs.  
  
"OW! What was *that* for?"  
  
Good!Maggie narrowed her eyes at her flame-haired counterpart. "Because, you *wench*, people are beginning to actually *like* me now, and I don't need an obnoxious bimbo like *you* to screw that up!" She shook her head in disbelief.   
  
"God...was I really that much of a bitch?"  
  
Quinn, Wade, and Rembrandt answered in unison..."Yes."  
  
Good!Maggie sunk back into the couch, glaring daggers at Evil!Maggie, who flipped her the bird.  
  
Colin, who had been sitting quietly twiddling his thumbs, decided to speak up.  
  
"Guys, I still don't understand why you made me come here with you - I mean, you *know* she doesn't feel she's ready to write a story with me in it yet!" Colin got up, and crossed the room, which garnered a puzzled expression from Quinn.  
  
"Hey, bro - where ya going? She'll be here any minute."  
  
As if on cue, the Author appeared in the doorway, carrying a mug bearing the legend, 'He's dead, Jim! You grab his tricorder, I'll get his wallet!'  
  
"*Who'll* be here any minute?" She cocked her head to one side. "I assume you were meaning me?" she said with a grin. "Colin...where *are* you going? Enquiring minds want to know." She took a sip of her coffee.  
  
"Well...I...I figured you probably wouldn't have anything for me in this story, so I thought I'd head over to see some of the U.K. fanfic writers; I mean, they've viewed practically a whole season with me by now, and somebody may want to use me." He looked at the Author sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind..."  
  
The Author smiled, and nodded her assent. "Go ahead. Oh, why don't you take Good!Maggie with you...I don't think I have anything for her this time, either. Sorry, G-M."  
  
Good!Maggie actually looked kind of sad, prompting the Author to give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  
  
"It's okay, G-M...I don't hate you. I just think that you, like Colin, would be able to get a bigger part from a different author than I'm capable of at this time." The Author looked from Good!Maggie to Colin and back again, tweaking her chin thoughtfully. "Besides...the two of you might make a rather cute couple."   
  
Good!Maggie was stunned. "You...you like me? You really *like* me?"  
  
The Author rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Yes, G-M, I *like* you. Now, go on, get moving...Colin's waiting."  
  
Pausing only to stick her tongue out at Evil!Maggie, Good!Maggie happily took off after Colin.  
  
Taking a seat, the Author eyed the remaining Sliders before her. "So...guys; what's on your minds?"  
  
The Sliders all sort of looked at each other, each apparently waiting for someone else to go first.  
  
Rembrandt cleared his throat. "I have a question."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"Girl, if you like us so much, why don't you have any of my albums? You've got Sam Cooke, Smokey, all those guys- but no Cryin' Man!"  
  
The Author raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Remmy, you're a fictional character- there *are* no Cryin' Man albums. I assure you, if there were, I'd have them." She smiled at him.  
  
Rembrandt nodded his understanding. "You've got a point there." He rubbed his hands together, and glanced at his companions. "Okay, I've said my piece. Who's next?"  
  
At that moment, a handsome blue-eyed blonde fellow burst through the doorway, running up to the Author in a state of distress.  
  
"Annie! You've got to help me - she's at it again!"  
  
The Author gripped the shoulders of her panicked arrival. "Nick, I'm in the middle of a meeting here; can't you just whammy her and be done with it?"  
  
Nick closed his eyes in an attempt to compose himself. "I can't - she's a resistor! I mean, considering her background, that shouldn't come as much of a shock, but still-"  
  
The Author sighed. ::"He's slipping into angst-mode...better act fast before he goes full-flashback on me,":: she thought to herself.  
  
Nick, however, being Nick, was oblivious. "I understand why she does what she does, but I'm a *good* vampire...a *cop*, for crying out loud! It's not like I've ever bothered her! I don't even drink *human* blood! The only one who should carry a grudge against me is PETA!"  
  
"Well...she had a rather, um, *upsetting* experience with her ex not so long ago. He, also, was a 'good' vampire, until things...ah...soured between them."  
  
Nick nodded. "No wonder."  
  
The Author nibbled at her lower lip. "Um, I don't know how much I can do on such short notice...go hide until I can think of something."  
  
Nick kissed the Author's hand. "Merci beaucoup." He fled the room.  
  
Turning her attention back to the Sliders, the Author waited for one of them to speak.  
  
The Professor raised a hand. "I'd like something cerebral, something that would get me into a lab again, or perhaps a classroom."  
  
The Author nodded sympathetically. "Professor, you know I would if I could; but I can't really do more than write you into a lab and come back to you later. I can barely grasp *basic* physics; I don't want to put you into any foolishly technobabbled situation where I'd have no concept of what I was writing. I respect you too much for that."  
  
"My dear, I appreciate your candor." He rose with a sigh, heading for the door. "I then leave it in your hands. If anyone wants me, I'll be watching the Discovery Channel."  
  
Professor Arturo turned to leave...and promptly collided with a young blonde woman carrying a crossbow.  
  
"Ruffian!"  
  
"Sor-RY! Never made a mistake yourself, much?" Lowering the weapon to her side, she strode over to the Author. "All right...*where* is he?"  
  
"Buffy, what did I tell you before about using crossbows in my home?"  
  
"But-"  
  
"No. My house, my rules. Hand it over."  
  
Buffy shifted on one foot, dropping her head. "Oh...all right...*here*."  
  
The Author gingerly placed the imposing object in her desk drawer. "Thank you. Now, you were saying...?"  
  
"I'm looking for tall, blonde, and angst-y." Crossing her arms, the Slayer eyed the Author suspiciously. "You're hiding him here somewhere, aren't you?" Her eyes continued their sweep of the room.  
  
"I'm afraid I'm clueless as to his *exact* whereabouts," shrugged the Author, with a shake of her head. Technically, she wasn't lying; she hadn't told Nick *where* he should hide.  
  
Buffy narrowed her eyes at the Author. "Yeah...I'll *bet*. *Hmpf*! I'll just have to find FangBoy myself, then!"  
  
The Slayer spun on one booted heel, exiting the room.  
  
*****  
  
With a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, the Author turned back to her remaining four charges.  
  
"I was thinking of a Wade story..."  
  
"AAUGGH!" Evil!Maggie made no effort to hide her contempt. [No big surprise there.] "That's *all* you *ever* write about - 'Wade this' or 'Quinn that', or 'Quinn and Wade this', or-"  
  
"Maggie- leave." The Author pointed to the door.  
  
"Wha-?"  
  
"You heard me- GO. I didn't get my butt out of bed so early- on a *Saturday*, yet -to listen to you bitch and moan- *go away*."  
  
"Fine! I'm gonna go find Krycek- he's the only one around here who knows how to have fun, anyway!" Setting her jaw in a scowl, Evil!Maggie stomped toward the doorway, sidestepping a large orange tabby on her way out.  
  
*PLOP*  
  
"Miaoooow!"  
  
It's presence announced, the Cat wandered in and curled itself around the Author's ankles; she bent down, skritching the side of it's head, and was rewarded with a motorous purr. Glancing first at her watch, then to the trio before her, she rose.  
  
"Excuse me for just a minute." She picked up the Paper from the office floor, and gently tossed it onto her desk. Leaning out the doorway, she shouted...  
  
"GARY!"  
  
An extremely handsome man with dark hair and a beatific smile came bounding down the stairs, tucking in his shirt.  
  
"Coming!"  
  
Breezing his way into the office, Gary Hobson gave a nod to the three Sliders seated on the couch, and swept the Author into a passionate embrace, greeting her with a kiss that took her breath away.  
  
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay...so I've had this thing for Kyle Chandler ever since 'HOMEFRONT'. Sue me. Besides, it's my story. So there. ;-)]  
  
While the Author attempted to remember her name, and the fact that her legs did indeed have bones in them for support, Gary retrieved his Sun-Times from the desk and began scanning the headlines. The Cat, which had been curled up peacefully on the desk, yawned, stretched, and rubbed the side of it's head against Gary's hip. He absently scratched behind it's ears before one story in particular caught his eye.  
  
"Aww, for pete's sake..."  
  
Frowning, he turned to the Author, holding up the Paper so she could read the headline in question...  
  
'TORONTO HOMICIDE DETECTIVE STAKED IN FANFIC AUTHOR'S KITCHEN'  
  
"She's at it again?"  
  
The Author nodded. "She's at it again."  
  
Gary sighed, running a hand through his hair. He glared at the Cat, gesturing toward it with the Paper.  
  
"*You*...you just can't give me a break *anywhere*, can you?"  
  
The Cat, however, paid no mind to Gary's protest. It sat, quietly grooming itself, looking for all the world like it would shrug if it were capable. It's work here done, it leapt from it's perch on the desk and sauntered toward the door, pausing momentarily to throw a '*Well*...what are you waiting for?'-look back at Gary. The Author gave him a meek smile and a sympathetic 'what can you do' shrug.  
  
Tucking the Paper in the back pocket of his Levis, Gary shook his head and strode out of the office in search of the Slayer.  
  
*****  
  
Pushing aside distracting thoughts of Gary and his jeans, the Author fanned herself and cleared her throat.  
  
"*Okay*...now, where were we...?"  
  
"You were thinking of a story about me," Wade offered.  
  
"Yes...that's right- thank you." She leafed through her notes. "Okay...here's my thought; you guys know that I enjoy crossovers-"  
  
Quinn smiled. "That's exactly what we wanted to talk to you about- I've got an idea I'd like you to use."  
  
Wade dipped her head, and muttered, "Ohh...no..."  
  
"Sweetheart, you told me he *promised* you he wouldn't bring this up..." Rembrandt hissed quietly to Wade, who continued to sink even lower into the couch.  
  
The Author shot Wade and Remmy a 'look'. "C'mon, guys, settle! I want to hear Quinn's idea-"  
  
"Ohh...*no*, you don't..." interjected Wade, hiding her face behind her hand.  
  
"Enough! Quinn...please continue."  
  
Quinn stood up, and began pacing. "Okay...how about...'HAPPY DAYS'!"  
  
The Author looked at Quinn as if he'd grown another head. "*What*?!"  
  
Wade waved a hand outward, not wanting to meet the Author's eyes. "Told you."  
  
Rembrandt leaned forward to explain, in sotto voice. "A couple of fanfics ago, someone wrote him getting kicked in the head coming out of the wormhole; he's been a little 'off' ever since."  
  
A look of realization crossed the Author's face. "So *that* explains all of those peanut butter and Jell-o sandwiches..." Wade and Remmy nodded in confirmation.  
  
Quinn didn't notice, and went on. "Just think...nothing bad ever happens on that show- well, there was that time Richie wiped out on a motorcycle, but that was a Very Special Episode, so it doesn't really count...anyway, we could have burgers at Arnold's - the Professor would like that - Remmy could sing in the band with Potsie, and you could make the Cunninghams be Colin's and my real parents! They own that hardware store, so they'd have all kinds of tools to work on the Timer- or, better, you could just have *Fonzie* fix it! Yeah! You could have him do that thing, you know, how he taps on things and all of a sudden they work? Wow- I've always wanted to meet Fonzie..." He turned to  
face his friends. "Wade, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"  
  
Wade stood, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "That's fine, Quinn." She looked at her wrist as if she were wearing a watch. "Gee, *look* at that- it's almost time for lunch! We'd better go fix something..." Taking one of Quinn's arms, she motioned for Remmy to help herd Quinn from the office, before it dawned on the Author that she'd given up sleeping in on a Saturday for this dementedness.  
  
Quinn looked confused as his companions took hold of him. "But...guys...it can't be more than eight or nine o'clock..."  
  
Directing a weak, sheepish grin at the Author, Rembrandt clapped Quinn gently on the shoulder. "Now, Q-Ball, remember, 'When in Rome...'"  
  
"Okay...well...can I have peanut butter and Jell-o, then? Smooth, though - I hate that crunchy stuff- it gets stuck in my teeth."  
  
Wade patted his hand. "Of course, Quinn; whatever you want." She glanced back over her shoulder at the Author, mouthing the word 'sorry', as she and Rembrandt led Quinn away.  
  
*****  
  
Looking around her now-Sliderless office, the Author took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.  
  
::"Well, there's one perfectly good morning shot to hell,":: she thought to herself.  
  
*knock*knock*  
  
"May I come in?"  
  
The Author turned, smiling. "Gary! Wow, you took care of that one fast."  
  
"I...uh...I didn't really have to *do* anything this time," he replied with a shrug.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Well...I was looking through the house for Buffy - but you already know that - anyway, I heard a ruckus coming from the dining room-"  
  
"A 'ruckus'? Can you describe the ruckus?" she asked with a smirk.  
  
"You know, a *ruckus*-" he looked puzzled, then got it. "'Ruckus'...oh, yeah- 'BREAKFAST CLUB' reference- ha-ha, very funny. Anyway, as I was saying, I heard this ruckus coming from the dining room, so I went to see what was going on; Krycek was in there, cracking walnuts on the table with his prosthetic arm, and Evil!Maggie was with him, having words with Buffy-" He paused, reluctant to continue.  
  
"Words? About what?"  
  
Gary blushed. Looking down, he mumbled something barely audible.  
  
The Author gently lifted Gary's chin up. "Gar...hon, I can't hear you when you talk to your feet- what?"  
  
Gary's eyes rolled toward the ceiling, too embarassed to meet the Author's gaze. "She- Buffy- she made some remark to Evil!Maggie about her...uh...about her...'store-bought' breasts...there, I *said* it - happy now?"  
  
She couldn't help giggling at Gary's discomfort. "...and then?"  
  
"Well, the next thing I knew, Evil!Maggie had yanked off Krycek's arm and whacked Buffy over the head with it."  
  
"What?! No!"  
  
He nodded, chuckling in spite of his normally-chivalrous nature. "Yep.   
Must've gotten her in just the right spot, too, 'cause she's out cold. Krycek and I carried her over to the couch where she can sleep it off. She'll probably wake with a whopper of a headache, so I think that Nick's safe for the time being...let's see what the Paper says..."  
  
Gary spread the Sun-Times out on the Author's desk. Together, they watched as the headline about Nick's staking morphed into...  
  
'FANFIC AUTHOR SPENDS BORING SATURDAY AT HOME'  
  
The Author scowled slightly, biting her lip. "Oh...*joy*."  
  
Gary, ever the gentleman, couldn't let the Author's disappointment go  
unchecked. Stabbing a finger at the offensive text, he grinned shyly at her, his hazel eyes twinkling a promise.  
  
"I...I could fix that, you know."  
  
The Author smiled as she linked her arm through Gary's, allowing him to lead her from the room...  
  
"Oh, I'm counting on it..."  
  
  
~End  
  
Feedback, confused Sliders, and men who receive tomorrow's newspaper today are always appreciated at: Achtung-Baby@juno.com  
  
Thanks for reading! :-)  
AnnieM  
Official Nice Person of alt.tv.sliders & MSTie# 33362  
  
"I went to a general store, but they couldn't sell me anything 'cause I was too specific." -- Steven Wright  
  
  
  



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